


Taphephobia

by MischiefManaged (orphan_account)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Horror, Implied Parent/Sibling incest (unrequited), Implied Torture, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MischiefManaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur isn’t much for superstitions. There’s a reasonable explanation for everything that happens and there isn’t much use in creating a mountain out of a spec of dirt. That said, he’s fairly certain his house is haunted. What other excuse would there be for his rather pathetic excuse for a love life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tomb](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/13434) by Itzcoatl. 



> i have an unnatural love of horror

Arthur isn't much for superstitions. There's a reasonable explanation for everything that happens and there isn't much use in creating a mountain out of a spec of dirt. That said, he's fairly certain his house is haunted. What other excuse would there be for his rather pathetic excuse for a love life?

He glances at the grandfather clock propped up against the wall opposite him for the fifteenth time that minute. 8:20. Elyan was supposed to have arrived at seven. Arthur runs a hand through his hair in annoyance, not caring that he's probably messed up his perfectly styled look. Angrily clambering to his feet and stomping over to the window, he pushes the heavy beige curtains nearest to him aside to glare out of the window. 

There's a light drizzle that's streaked the glass and the sky is a dark gray, nothing unusual or out of the ordinary for the area. Three stories down, he can make out the winding driveway that leads to his home. It's empty, save for the rusted old truck he hasn't had towed yet. 

This is the sixth boyfriend that's stood him up without any sort of goodbye. Leon was the first, loyal to a fault and almost endearing in his idolization of Arthur. They'd grown up with each other and had only fallen in love a year prior. It really was more of a friends-posing-as-lovers type of deal to get his father to calm down about Arthur's serial monogamy habits. Two weeks after they started dating, Leon moved to Florida without so much as a goodbye. Arthur had been hurt, but supported Leon quietly from across the pond.

Lancelot had come after that. He was a sweet guy who gave everything to their relationship. Their relationship had lasted only a short three months, but Arthur had never felt more adored in his life. It was sweet, but Lancelot had stopped returning his calls three days after their third month's anniversary. Arthur tries to pretend it never happened.

His relationships never fared much better after that. Gwaine, Percival, and now Elyan. Those relationships had been short but full of passion. And yet, none of them lasted. He had been hoping that Elyan would be different but the stone cold feeling in his gut is telling him otherwise.

Arthur really doesn't understand what the problem is. He's good looking, stunningly so if he has any opinion on the matter (and he very unmodestly does). His dental work isn't anything to hand out awards for, but he's never had a problem in getting boyfriends. The true problem lies in keeping them.

He'd say it has something to do with money, seeing as how he's the heir to the most successful energy company in the UK, if any of his exes had made any indication that they were in it for money. His identity remains unstolen to-date, and thus isn't the issue.

It's a tad bit ridiculous, but the only solution he can think of is that his house is haunted. The most common factor between his dates is that about a week in, they would be really nervous upon entering his home. Sure, the floor creaked occasionally  and the wind echoed through the walls something awful in the winter. Maybe they were all just a bit weak at the knees about these things. 

"Arthur."

He jolts away from the window, with one last glance at the driveway before turning to his father. His eyes are distantly cold in a way that only ever happens when he's feeling passionate about something. Arthur doesn't ask, simply inclines his head in greeting before tipping it in askance.

"I need you to run a few errands for me. I have a new shipment of wine I want to sort out," Uther says stiffly, shoulders drawn back as if daring Arthur to refuse.

He of course, doesn't. It's not like he has a date at the moment. "What would you have me do, father?"

Uther crosses the room to hand him a hastily written list, a few obscure items jotted down on it. "I need you to run into town and get these for me. I'm starting a new project."

Arthur's eye skim over the list, gaze lingering on "cement and bricks" for a bit longer than the rest. His father is known to take on ridiculously taxing hobbies, but he's getting to the age where this is a bit too much. Still, he says nothing on the matter. Only nods and leaves the room to grab his coat.

Half an hour later finds him frantically googling the term "schlack" in the parking lot of a hardware store before he realizes what it is he actually needs. Steeling himself for an easy, but long shopping trip, Arthur get out of the truck. And promptly walks into a potted plant with legs.

Or, more accurately, a person carrying a potted plant two sizes too large for them. Arthur watches in a mix of guilt and amusement at the man stumbles back and forgets the plant in favor of keeping his spine from the pavement. The sound of shattering pottery makes him flinch. 

The man sits up and stares at Arthur in disbelief. "What the hell?"

"Watch where you're going next time—"

"Watch whereI'm—"

"Clearly I wasn't the one who decided to becoming a battering ram today."

They both stop their streams of speech, Arthur's mouth thinning into a line and the other man's falling open in indignity. Realizing that the fall was probably partially his fault Arthur offers a hand to the man, but he ignores it and instead gets up and dusts dirt off of his—Oh, lovely— employee uniform. 

"No, don't bother. Don't want help from a self absorbed prat, thanks."

Before he can get a word out in his defense, the man is storming back into the store with a look of fury. Arthur trails behind, annoyed but not entirely angry like the other person seems to be. He notes, rather quietly, that the man is limping slightly.

The inside of the store is large. And empty. He supposes that it must not get much business on days like these, and he looks around for an employee that can help him find his things.

The only one that appears to be around at the moment is a large-eared, fuming, man with dirt streaked trousers. Arthur decides to take his chances in the rather intimidating aisles than ask—He squints in the employee's nametag as he passes— Merlin for help.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin isn't sure why he keeps goading the guy. He's clearly all out of shape, more drunk than he's probably letting on.

"And then he got lost, like five times. You should've seen the look on his face. Poor sod was so determined not to ask me for help and then he just left. Without buying anything and glaring at the poor piece of paper like it was its fault he's such a clot-pole." Merlin chuckles into his cellphone as he's closing down the store. His companion sighs in long-suffering tones that foretell a lecture and he shifts his phone to be propped up his shoulder so he can keep his hands busy.

"Merlin," Gwen begins in that mothering tone she gets sometimes, "it's entirely possible that the man was having a bad day. To be fair, you hadn't been looking where you were going and he probably hadn't noticed you."

He mulls that over in his head. The man had seemed a bit lost in himself, and Merlin wasn't so self absorbed as to think he had it out for him. Still, he got "major prat" vibes from the man. He sighs and searches for the keys to the register. "Fine, fine. But a simple apology would have been nice."

"I didn't exactly hear you offering one up, yourself," a voice interrupts, making Merlin startle and drop the keys. They land with an annoying clamor, though he barely registers that as he whirls to face the man from before. A million scenarios run through his head, most of them ending with his death. There's a faint smell of alcohol coming from the man, but his posture is relaxed and nonthreatening at the moment. Merlin keeps his eyes on him as he crouches down to pick up the keys.

Gwen is still on the phone, though she seems to have picked up on his silence and is now replicating it. "How did you get in here?"

Eyebrows are lost under a fringe of golden hair and the man speaks slowly, as if questioning Merlin's mental state. "The doors?"

"Right, but I..." Merlin breaks off into a rather violent curse and the man takes a step backwards. "...forgot to lock the doors."

"Ah."

There's a moment of awkward silence, and Gwen's tinny laugh reminds him that he was about to close shop. "Was there something you needed, your highness?" 

The man visibly steels himself and Merlin hides his eye roll with the premise of checking his phone. Gwen is silently amused on the other line, Merlin can tell. Not bothering to give her a warning, he hangs up and pockets the cell. "Yes. I was wondering if you could help me find these items."

"Can I get a please?"

Merlin isn't sure why he keeps goading the guy. He's clearly all out of shape, more drunk than he's probably letting on. When his jaw sets and his neck reddens, Merlin supposes that's one reason to add to the list. Certainly attractive, this one. "I'm not goin' to say please. It's your _job_ to help me."

"Not when you show up after closing hours, it isn't," Merlin retorts with a gesture to the rather large clock, indicating the time is now well past ten.

That seems to chastise the other, eyes averting sheepishly. Merlin patiently waits from him to drag himself off to have a good sulk with a bottle of ale. 

"Will you please help me find these items, ah. _Mer_ lin." It's more of a statement than a question but the way his voice tests out his name halts any snide remark Merlin has on the matter.

Supposing that he's dragged the matter on long enough, he pockets the keys to the register and motions for the list. He snorts and walks off without another word to his patron. The man is clearly miffed about this, but wisely says nothing. 

Fifteen minutes later, Merlin returns with a cart filled with the things requested. "My name is Arthur, by the way."

Merlin stumbles over his last step, caught completely off guard. Not only does the man sound completely embarrassed, but he also is giving him what Merlin has come to call drunken bedroom eyes. "R...ight. Fancy that. Let's get you rung up now, yeah?"

Best to just gently let the man down while he's in a stupor so Merlin can shut down and go get some well deserved coffee. Assuming some place is open that isn't McDonald's. 

Arthur, as he's now known, doesn't seem put off. Or even registering that he'd been flirting in the first place, lost in whatever thoughts he's having. Merlin won't trouble himself with the details. 

"Would you mind terribly going on a date with me?" Arthur asks as he works out the mechanisms of the credit card scanner in his state.

Merlin pauses in scanning a box of nails before scoffing and continuing with the transaction process. When he glances up again, Arthur seems to be finished paying and genuinely hurt. "Sorry but I'm not interested in straight blokes who need to get out their latent homosexuality with a drunken shag."

Arthur mulls this over, before his expressions turns to an offended one. "One, I'll have you know that I am openly gay. Secondly—"

"Two," Merlin corrects.

"...Secondly, I was asking for a date, not a quickie. Don't go inflating your ego so quickly."

Merlin punches in the code for the bags of cement, not bothering to try and lift them before putting everything back into the cart for the man. "Tell you what, come back when you're not drunk off your arse and don't smell like rotten grapes and woo me something proper. Then I'll consider it. That is, assuming you even make the trip home in the state you're in."

He tears off the receipt and hands it over to the other, patting his shoulder in mock cheerfulness and pointedly turning his attention elsewhere. Arthur takes the hint, surprisingly enough, and soon he's out of sight.

Once everything's closed up and locked away for the day, Merlin bikes back to his flat, the blond asshole already forgotten. He figures that was the last he'll see of him.

That is, until two days later when he finds his entire work locker filled with roses.

Coincidentally, that's the day Arthur feels remorse properly for the first time in years. He sits out in the waiting room to the hospital, feet bouncing off of thinly carpeted floors as he tosses a stuffed dragon from hand to hand. He's about to go crazy when a dazzlingly gorgeous woman pokes her head through to door with a worried look. "Arthur?"

He raises his hand, thinks better of it, and drops it back into his lap with a slow nod. "That's me."

"Brilliant! I'm Gwen." She smiles and motions with her hand for him to follow her. He obliges somewhat hesitantly. "I was wondering who this dazzling prince charming was that Merlin couldn't stop complaining about."

Arthur flinches. "How is he?"

"Relatively well, all things considered," she replies with a small frown. She waves off his apologies with a manicured hand. "Don't bother with that sorry business. It's not like you knew those roses would set off his asthma something awful. He's not had an attack in years. He probably forgot he even had it, to be honest. Must've been really expensive flowers to have such an effect though."

He pales considerably, gut clenching in the worst way. "I honestly hadn't meant to."

To be perfectly honest, he had pulled a few strings and filled the locker with all 777 roses himself. It was more in cheeky retaliation to Merlin's comment about proper woo-ing than out of spite. It's not like he knew about the asthma. Still, it wasn't very responsible of him to do that.

Gwen all but drags him inside and he's greeted with narrowed blue eyes. "What, come to finish me off?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Merlin. You're hardly worth the jail time."

Merlin snorts. "You know, most people apologize in these sorts of situations."

A long sigh lets itself loose from Arthur before he approaches the bed, dragon held out at arms length in a gesture of peace. Merlin eyes it warily before taking it from him and cradling it to his chest. At his expectant look, Arthur clears his throat. "Right, ah. Sorry about this whole mess."

"It was no trouble at all, your highness. In fact, I look forward to the other inevitable failures you're sure to doom me with."

Arthur prickles visibly at that, straightening his posture. "What is your deal? I try being nice to you, you snark at me. I make an honest mistake and you—"

"My _problem_ is that you seem to be under the impression that I'm obligated to date you." 

"You told me to woo you! Sorry for misconstruing that as interest!"

Gwen sighs from the doorway, coming to stand beside Arthur and shutting up Merlin's reply with a glare. "What Merlin means, Arthur, is that he would love to go on a date with you. And what Arthur means, Merlin, is that he will meet you at The Rising Sun next Tuesday at five."

Her tone tells him that there's no refuting this. Merlin's glare tells him he's overstayed his welcome. "Right then. I'll just be— Right."

It isn't until he's home, sitting at the dinner table by himself with a bowl of cereal, that he realizes he's back in the dating game. "Huh."


	3. Chapter 3

The date goes about as well as one would expect, given the two attending the date. Arthur is punctual, and finds a table in the center of a crowd in case Merlin decides he wants to exact his revenge for his imagined slights. Merlin arrives half an hour late and doesn't reply to Arthur's snide comment about punctuality.

For the first forty minutes, the only time they talk is to order food. After that they go back to mutually trying to make the other person's ears leak with their minds. Merlin distantly thinks that if he would put some actual effort into it, he probably could. Judging by the thoughts Arthur's projecting, he should be glad that he's not magical. Merlin must give him credit, he's imaginative. 

But not terribly used to silence. After their food arrives, he stares really hard at Merlin until he becomes self conscious about the way he's eating and lowers his fork to rest beside his plate. "Why do you hate me?"

Merlin's quick to quip, "Why are you such a prat?"

There's tense silence after that, each of them more concerned with their meals than a petty fight. Arthur is decidedly put off by everything by this point, no longer wholly interested in pursuing any kind of relationship with this large eared sod.

He hears a sigh of resignation but refuses to look up at Merlin, instead focusing his attention on the waitress who is astutely avoiding their table. Probably sensed the tension, Arthur muses. 

"I don't actually hate you," Merlin says finally. Arthur turns his attention to him and wisely keeps his mouth shut. "You didn't exactly make the best first impression on me but I'm aware of how I can be a bit... stubborn about things. I was maybe a bit unjustly rude to you."

"A bit?"

Merlin narrows his eyes but doesn't fly off the handle and Arthur thinks that maybe some animosity has gone from between them. "A bit. You are still a prat. Perhaps with well intentions, but a prat nonetheless."

He rolls his eyes and accepts that for the almost-compliment that it is. "And you're more than a bit daft, but that's alright."

Merlin hesitates, as if waiting for his own hidden compliment, before he realizes that one isn't coming and flicks a chunk of potato at him.

                                             ******************************************************************************

Three months later finds them on their twelfth "date". All of those dates prior had been out of reluctance. As it happens, they have a mutual friend in Morgana who easily conspires with Gwen to make them miserable. Morgana calls them double dates (although her and Gwen aren't quite dating). Merlin and Arthur call them obligation dates, because they have a fondness for the two girls and a reluctance to see either one put off like a kicked puppy.

So it happens, on the twelfth date, they get stood up. Stood up in the sense that they spend the first half of the movie waiting for them to show up when Morgana sends the both of them a text telling them to have fun and "be safe." Arthur very nearly storms out in an over dramatic fashion when Merlin snorts into his drink and gives him a smile that has him frozen on the spot. 

Arthur relaxes back into the seat and concentrates on the movie and not on how warm his face feels. It's not hard to do, since the movie requires focus to understand the plot, easily absorbing them both. 

When it ends— with a flub of a resolution; everyone survives, the bad "guy" is actually a woman, no one goes to jail— Merlin sheepishly tips the bucket of popcorn towards Arthur in offering. He raises an eyebrow in shock at the amount of popcorn the lanky guy managed to consume during that short amount of time. "No thanks. I was going to head home for some dinner."

Merlin's shoulders slumping in what looks like disappointment isn't lost on Arthur. "Right. Well, I'll just be off then. I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," Arthur conceded, following behind Merlin as he trailed out of the theater. "If you want, you can tag along for dinner."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose or anything."

Merlin looks distinctly uncomfortable, though Arthur thinks that he would secretly love the chance to impose on him. Either way, he's not exactly eager to eat dinner with just his father. Uther has seemed off for a while now, overly doting and interested in Arthur's life. "Sure, it's no problem. Do you want to just follow me to my house?"

"No, I took the bus here." And the discomfort increases, much to Arthur's amusement.

Arthur shrugs it off. "That's a no, then. Just ride with me. I promise to only drive a little bit recklessly."

That's a bit of an understatement. Arthur has a tendency to overdo it when showing off to someone new. He almost feels guilty when he pulls into his driveway and sees Merlin practically peel himself from the door he was clinging against.

He wobbles a little bit on the way up the stairs and Arthur thinks himself a good person for not laughing. Merlin thinks he's a prat for driving through every stop sign.

"Oh cheer up, Merlin," Arthur chimes with mock enthusiasm, unlocking the door and ushering the taller man inside. "It could have been worse."

Merlin mutters something under his breath that is no doubt a heavily worded insult, but still nods his assent. When they arrive in the dining room, Uther isn't there. Instead, one of the servants is setting the table. Arthur grins at the older woman and takes a seat. "Add another place for my friend here, Ann. Thank you."

She smiles softly and busies herself with the task at hand again, waving off Merlin's murmured thanks and bustling them both into their seats. 

"Arthur, dear," she starts in a quiet voice. "Your father is in one of his moods again. I wouldn't suggest revealing your relationship with this young man just yet."

Merlin chokes on nothing but air and is quick to jump in. "Oh no. We're, uh. We're not together, ma'am. Just friends. Friendly pals."

"Way to make a convincing argument."

Arthur rolls his eyes but nods when Ann turns questioning eyes on him. "Very well. I'll go fetch your father now. He should be finishing up in his study."

Merlin casts a nervous glance Arthur's way, and he can't say it's unmerited. His father is well known for his temper, and though there's no way Merlin would know that, the tension in Arthur's posture must be a good enough indicator.

He's grateful that Ann had Uther seated across the table from Arthur because otherwise Merlin would have had his father's full attention when he brisked into the room. His steps don't miss a pace, even when his sights set on Merlin.

Arthur watches as his father eyes him callously, and makes a noise of disapproval. "Father," Arthur says in greeting. He can see Merlin go to greet him and them come up short when he realizes that he doesn't know Arthur's surname.

"Sir," he decides on, and Arthur gives him some credit for not stuttering.

Uther inclines his head at both of them, manners intact for the time being. "I wasn't aware we were going to be having company. Who's your guest, Arthur."

Arthur nudges Merlin in the side when he sees him about to extend his hand in greeting, giving a subtle shake of his head when the man glances over. "This is my friend Merlin."

"Friend?" There's a noticeable edge to his voice when he asks this question and Merlin stiffens. Had he just walked into the middle of an I'm-gay-no-you're-not battle? He really hopes not. 

Thankfully, Arthur holds firm. "Yes. He's the one I hospitalized, remember?" Uther nods, expression clearing a bit. "Apparently, he's friends with Morgana. She thought it would be nice if we became friends."

Uther nods and that seems to be the end of the conversation. Merlin prays, futilely, that Arthur will strike up a conversation with one of them simply to end the silence. But as the food is served and they begin to eat, he realizes that's simply not an option.

He's reluctant to break the silence himself, seeing as how when he cleared his throat before taking a drink, Uther had glared the fear of death right into him.

He doesn't miss Arthur's glances of apology, and he's not angry enough to ignore them, giving the blond a quick smile in return. Truth be told, it's not the worst dinner-with-the-parents he's had but it's certainly the quietest. 

When Merlin finishes (way before Arthur or his father, because he really really wanted to be out of the tension) he stands hesitantly and seems to startle Arthur. "I really should be off. I need to feed my cat and I've got a paper to work on..."

Arthur nods and gets to his feet. "I'll give you a ride."

"No, that's fine. My flat isn't very far from here and I like the walk," Merlin objects.

Arthur doubts that, seeing as how most of the area surrounding the house is owned by his family. "Then I'll walk you to the door. Excuse me, father."

They hover near the door awkwardly for a few moments, neither knowing what to really say and Merlin reluctant to leave without words for the sake of not seeming rude. Finally, Arthur clears his throat. 

"Today wasn't... dreadfully awful. In fact, I'd like to do it again sometime, if you'd like. Maybe even without the girls there to harass us."

That certainly catches his attention. He pretends to mull it over, going full on chin-rub with a head tilt. In the end he nods, goofy grin plastered on his face. "Sure. I'll get your number from Morgana later and we can plan something out."

Arthur nods his agreement and types in the code for the security system to let him out. "Sounds good to me."

They say their goodbyes, and when Arthur returns to the dining room, it's alone. Uther is nowhere to be seen, which never bodes well for his temper. Arthur sighs and decides to finish his food at the very least.

They now have a first official date in the makings, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! i have bad luck when it comes to stories and always end up super busy once i take on a project. hopefully i'll have the next chapter up tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, you talk entirely too much. I think I like your mouth put to better use like this."

Their next date is set up to be a simple dinner at Merlin's place. Arthur didn't want a repeat of Merlin's last visit to his house, and Merlin was more than okay with that decision. 

He spends all of that Tuesday morning in the grocery store stocking up on food so his flat at least looks like someone lives there, though Merlin mostly subsists on potatoes and cereal. He's a fairly (relatively, debate-ably) decent cook, so he's confident that he can at least manage a full course meal by the end of the day. And if Arthur complains, well. Merlin was a few things to say in that regard. 

It isn't until he's looking down at the list of ingredients that he realizes he's in over his head. What are chives and how do they contribute to potato soup? It's all a bit much and he ends up crossing things off the list that he doesn't recognize. "I mean, how important is spinach in the long run?"

No one answers, which is just as well because he hadn't been addressing anyone in particular. He ends up keeping most of the ingredients—minus chives— and buys more potatoes that strictly necessary. He isn't going to chance trying to bake bread on his own so he stops by a bakery on the way home to grab two loaves. 

Once everything's set up on his kitchen's small counter, he begins to question his abilities. Sure, there's the option of magic, but the last time he let his magic touch his food, his skin turned purple for a week. As funny as that would be to see on Arthur, he doesn't particularly fancy explaining to him or his father why Arthur is suddenly genetically mutated for a small amount of time.

He spends two hours peeling and chopping potatoes before he realizes the recipe calls for all of that after boiling them. He decides to just roll with it and sticks the cubes in a pot of water. The rest of the recipe is simple enough— Though Merlin forgot to grab bacon as well and ends up just adding bits of sliced deli ham into the broth— and by the time everything starts coming together, Merlin has lost most of his stressed tension. He lets the broth simmer with the potatoes in it and relaxes against the kitchen counter. 

His phone rings a minute later and he reluctantly answers is. "'Ullo?"

"Greetings, Merlin!" Arthur says loudly and cheerily, as if he can't possibly rest easy knowing Merlin is surrounded by a feeling of calm and he hasn't shattered it. "How is my darling man?"

He gets a loaded sentence for his troubles, and Merlin grits his teeth at the snort he in turn receives.

"Well aren't you just a ray of sunshine to brighten up my day. Listen I got off work early today. D'you mind terribly if I dropped by early?" Arthur asks, and if the knock on Merlin's door is anything to go by, he already anticipated the answer being yes.

Merlin hangs up, and puts a bowl of salad together in a frenzy before he lets Arthur in. He gives the man some credit for not simply barging in. He's aware, by now, of Merlin's tendencies to forget to lock his door on occasion. "You're more stress than you're worth, you know."

Arthur laughs as if that's the funniest thing he's heard all day and sidesteps Merlin to make himself at home at his table. "On the contrary, _Mer_ lin, I'm worth quite a lot these days. Anyways, I never asked you to cook. I would've been fine with takeout or something."

"You have a personal chef and you're telling me that you'd be fine with takeout food?" Merlin asks, near hysterical, as he begins to set places.

There are a few placemats in his cabinet that depict cartoon characters and he sets those under his very sophisticated Disney plates. "I had to install a secret pulley system and bribe my neighbor just so I can occasionally enjoy shitty food. So yes, I would have."

"Hm. I'll keep that in mind for next time, since cooking is too much of a hassle anyways," Merlin says, folding a towel in the center of a table and then quickly setting the pot of soup on top. When he glances at his blessedly silent companion, he notices the odd look on his face and pauses. "What?"

Belatedly, he sees the leaf of lettuce sticking to his apron and he hurries to be rid of both. Arthur shakes his head and ladles soup into the large bowl Merlin set out for him. "Planning on there being a next time, are you?"

"Wh— Oh, sod off, you egotistical prat. You're the one who started trying to get into my pants in the first place," he replies simply, seating himself across from Arthur and "angrily" treating himself to salad and then soup. 

"Are you saying you won't put out, then?" Arthur asks, and really, where is his train of thought even located? Merlin ignores him for a bit in favor of dunking a large chunk of bread into the soup and sampling it. It isn't half bad, not thin and not too thick. Certainly not lacking without the chives. 

He finishes chewing and leans forward with a wicked smirk on his face that immediately catches Arthur's attention. "No, I'm not saying I'm not putting out, as you so delicately phrased it. But you've met all of the woo-ing prerequisites. Dinner and a movie, and meeting the parents. You could have been sleeping with my ages ago, really."

Which is technically true, because had Arthur not been an asshole, Merlin would have taken him up on his offer from the start. Judging from the way Arthur inhales his spoon, he reaches a similar conclusion. "You— I—"

"Tsk, tsk. Eat your food, Arthur."

His jaw sets in determination that makes Merlin eager to finish his own meal just as fast as Arthur is trying. But he spent a lot of time cooking it, so instead he goes slowly and savors the meal.

And if Arthur spends ten minutes impatiently glaring at Merlin, then that's just a bonus really. Once he's finished, he takes their dishes to his sink and turns to find Arthur in his personal space. "What happened to only wanting a date?" Merlin asks, cheeky.

Arthur rolls his eyes, hands resting on Merlin's hips and tugging the two of them together. "That was twenty dates ago, Merlin. Get with the program."

Merlin makes a noise of mock surprise, leaning in to mouth kisses at Arthur's jawline. "Twenty, you say? And here I was under the impression that this was our first. I really have been a prude, haven't I?"

"Oh, certainly," Arthur drawls, then hesitates for a moment, hand tipping Merlin's head back so he can look at him properly. "Just to be clear on this, you do want me, right? I don't want you to feel obligated or anything ridiculous like that, seeing as how you hated my guts for the greater part of our acquaintanceship." 

He slides to his knees, back to the cold wood of the sink counter, and fiddles with the button of Arthur's trousers. "Oh, definitely. So obligated. Hate your guts." He tugs down his briefs next, licking a path up his half-hard cock. "Don't worry, your status isn't making me feel like I need to do this. Apparently, I have a fetish for massive pricks... In both senses I guess. And don't let that inflate your ego too much."

Large hands fist in his hair as Merlin glides his mouth down over his prick, tongue laving patterns on the smooth skin with a talent Arthur never would have pegged him with. "You know, you talk entirely too much. I think I like your mouth put to better use like this."

He twists his hand where it's fisted around the base of his cock and Arthur's snarky commentary is cut short. When Merlin glances up, he's met with striking blue eyes and he groans around him in surprised arousal. Briefly, in the dark recesses of his mind, he thinks this is probably the most sexual he's been in ages. In the sense that it's not plain old vanilla sex. 

He pulls off just barely, tonguing the small ridge just beneath the head and soaking in the way Arthur curses and struggles not to tighten the grip in his hair. "Jesus  _Christ_ , Merlin."

It doesn't take long for Arthur to choke out a warning about his own release, and Merlin hums in acknowledgement, swallowing his cum as if it's nothing out of the ordinary for a technical first date. Arthur gives him a dazed but calculating look before Merlin sits back on his haunches and palms his own erection (now since out of his own jeans) in telling. 

"Right, uh. D'you want the same thing or should I just...?"

Merlin snorts at the vague manner of speaking. Still sparing Merlin's delicate sensibilities, it seems. "Nah, I'll be set if you just jerk me off a bit."

Maybe less than a bit with the look Arthur fixes him with. He kneels, knees in between Merlin's thighs and kisses him. It's sloppy, and filthy, and matches up perfectly with the quick and precise way he jerks Merlin's dick.

Merlin's breathing is erratic and all over the place and he grips at Arthur's shirt in an attempt to maintain some semblance of himself. It's a really basic handjob, but he suspects he's still running on a high of his "daring" blowjob moments ago. He's a bit lame in that aspect, he supposes. 

Arthur growls against his lips, glides his thumb over the slit of his cock, and just like that Merlin's done for.

Two hours later, they're freshly cleaned, full of dinner and ice cream, and watching trashy television in peace. 

"I should have suspected that a good lay would make you more complacent," Merlin comments idly.

"I should have known a semi-decent lay wouldn't be enough to make you less cheeky."


End file.
